I Miss The Mountains
by Kaz Gemcity
Summary: I stole the title from Next To Normal. I just like it. Umm, I can't tell you too much without giving it away, so I'll just give you a quote. "Neal robbed a bank."
1. Chapter 1

He ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. His blue eyes shined brightly in the dark store window he was walking by. After a minute of admiring himself, the man continued on his walk. His tailored suit fit his frame closely, and his Italian leather shoes shined brightly in the sun.

It was the perfect day, the perfect time to rob a bank.

The man walked into a bank with a spring in his step. Without hesitation and with a smile, he walked up to a young guard-woman. She looked up, pushing her straight red hair out of her face.

"Hello, can I help you Mr . . . ?" She asked.

"Halden. Nicholas Halden." He answered.

"Mr. Halden then. What can I do for you?"

"I was supposed to report for a job interview today, and they gave me a pass to get back there. Silly me, I forgot it at home. On my counter. And I'm already late. If I don't get in there soon, I'm not going to have any chance of getting the job. But I really need it, because I don't like my current boss, I mean talk about crazy. So I don't have time to run back to my place. I can't . . . " The man stopped his rushed words when the woman raised her hand at him.

"Stop. It's okay. Here's a visitor's pass. And good luck." He shook her hand, smiling at her and oh-so-casually taking her badge and workers' ID from where they were clipped on her belt.

"Thank you. And have a nice day." He walked away, scanning her ID and entering the back-room.

He smiled, banks would never learn. They kept the money in one easy access room. The hardest part was walking out with a straight face. But that was something he had mastered.

"Goodbye." The man waved to the guard with the hand that wasn't holding his now-full briefcase.

"Goodbye, Mr. Halden. I hope you get the job." He smiled and walked away.

A couple million dollars never hurt anyone.

* * *

"Neal robbed a bank."

It could not be told from where in the busy room where the words had come from, but all movement stopped instantly.

"Neal what?" Peter Burke demanded from the balcony just outside his office. He was met only with silence.


	2. Chapter 2

"You did what?" Mozzie asked Neal, a smile on his face.

"Don't look so smug." Neal answered, a smirk on his own face.

"So how'd you do it? I mean, it's not like you can just walk into a bank and take nine million dollars, cash, without anyone noticing." Moz asked, pouring a glass of red wine from a bottle on Neal's shelf.

"Is that my nine hundred dollar bottle of Italian port?" He asked, instead of answering Mozzie's question, and taking the glass from his hand and drinking it himself. He smiled as he took a sip.

"You did, didn't you. You walked in, took the money, and walked out." The shorter man's face broke into a wide smile.

"In broad daylight?" Moz continued.

"I kept my face off the camera's, the only one who could ID me is a guard who spends most of her time reading romantic novels. I'm good to go Mozzie." Neal answered, grinning broadly.

A sharp knock at the door made his smile drop, however. Both men glanced quickly around the room making sure that nothing incriminating was visible in Neal's small apartment. Assuring himself of this fact, Neal opened the door slowly.

"Hi Peter." He said brightly, pulling the door completely open when he saw the FBI agent. His face was lit up with fake cheer and his fingers rapped a bouncy rhythm on the door frame.

"Hello Neal. What did you get up to today?" Peter asked casually, but he could not get the FBI-interigator out of his voice enough for Neal not to pick up on it. Immediately both the con and his friend became defensive.

"Nothing. I thought the FBI didn't have any current cases that required my expertise?" Neal questioned innocently.

"We just caught a good one. Someone walked into a bank this afternoon and walked out with a little over nine million dollars in cash." Peter explained, looking around, possibly searching for nine million dollars.

"Is that so. Isn't that a case for the organized crime division?" Neal commented mildly.

"Usually, but there were some extenuating circumstances." Mozzie nodded his head like he had been in a similar situation recently.

"Like?" Moz asked, glancing out the window conspiritoraly.

"The suspect looked almost exactly like a certain fellon who works with the FBI." Peter answered. Neal and Mozzie shared a glance. Moz nodded.

"Sorry Peter." Neal said, grabbing the other man's arm and pulling them behind his back. With quick, practiced movements he handcuffed Peter with his own handcuffs. Neal sat him down on a dining chair and poured him a glass of wine.

Turing away, Neal grabbed two briefcases from under the sink. With a smirk at Mozzie, they walked out the door, leaving Peter staring after them, mouth agape.

"God, Neal. You robbed a bank. You messed this up." He said to the empty apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N- Third update on my White Collar stories today. WOOT WOOT! This one is one of my personal favorites actually. Down side though- I'm running out of random A/N drabble. Oh well. If it comes to that, I could always bore you with random funny-ish events from my day._**

**_ ENJOY!_**

Neal handed the cases to Mozzie and grabbed two more from coat closet in June's mud-room.

"This can's be all of it." Moz said, glancing down at the cases in his hands, and then back up to avoid walking into people on the crowded New York sidewalk.

"No. This is only two million. The rest of it is in a storage locked near the airport. Which is our next stop." Neal answered, focusing his eyes on the shorter man for a minute before quickly navigating his way through a crowd of men in business suits.

"Don't they have your picture up at all the major transportation sites? And you're still wearing the anklet." His friend pointed out.

"Yeah, they do. Which is why we're going to get the rest of the money. Find a guy who looks a little bit like me, and pay him a couple hundred dollars to buy a ticket to Italy with three million in counterfeit I plan on giving him. And then I'm going to cut the anklet, and buy a boat." Neal explained, holding out his hand and stopping a taxi. He and Mozzie climbed in.

"Storage units next to the airpot please." He said. And the driver nodded.

* * *

Peter could not believe that Neal had left him chained to a chair. He couldn't reach his phone, or even pick the lock. He growled under his breath and muttered an apology to June for what he was about to do to her chair.

Peter stood up, nearly bent over double to get the chair legs off the floor, and walked awkwardly out the door to Neal's apartment.

He sighed, seeing June's phone in the parlor. Maneuvered slowly through the antique furniture. Finally reaching the phone, he quickly dialed the FBI's number. Jones answered on the first ring.

"Agent Jones." He said.

"Jones, it's Peter. Send a team to Neal's. He robbed the bank and I'm chained to a chair in June's parlor." He explained through gritted teeth. His back really was staring to hurt.

"I'm on it Peter. Should I post look-outs for Neal?" He asked, getting down to business and forcing himself not to laugh at his boss's situation. Though he couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face.

"Stop smirking." Peter snapped, before continuing,

"And yes. I want BOLOs at every airport, bus-stop, and taxi-hub in New York." He said, putting the phone back into its cradle and waiting for the FBI to arrive.

Thankfully it wasn't long before he heard the tell-tale sirens.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N- Hey all. Guess what? I'm back. That's right. New computer, new ideas, and finally, /FINALLY/ updates. I know it's been ages, but I return with an appreciation for British television (any Whovians out there?) and British actors. I'm afraid my writing style has probably changed, but I'm hoping it's for the better. Tell me if it suck. Read and review, pretty please. **_

_****_"Name?" The word came from a bored-looking woman sitting behind a desk at "Storage 4 U." Mozzie looked over at Neal, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to respond.

"Halden. Nicholas Halden." The con-man answered. The receptionist didn't even look up from her computer. Pulling her hand away from the keyboard for no more than one fourth of a second, she pressed a large red button, and the metal door swung open, revealing rows of lockers.

Mozzie waited until they were out of earshot before stopping Neal in the room with a glare.

"You realize that every Fed in New York knows that your alias is "Nick Halden" right?" He snapped.

Neal only smiled. Coming to a row toward the back of the room, he stopped, pulling a small key from his pocket and opening the locker. Without a word he handed Moz several heavy bags, grabbed the rest of them himself and kicked the door closed.

"Tell me Mozzie, have you ever wanted to live on a yatch?" He asked with a smile like the Cheshire Cat.

* * *

Peter paced restlessly across his office, glancing at his watch every three seconds.

There had been no results in the search for Neal thus far, and Agent Burke was anxious, to say the least.

He believed in Neal, believed that he would do the right thing.

He was angry that he hadn't know. To say that Peter didn't like being wrong would be an understatement. He detested it.

A few moments later Jones knocked on his door. Peter spun on his heels to look at the younger agent.

"He's been using the alias of Nicholas Halden. Was spotted heading toward the airport. And he bought a plane ticket to Italy." Jones informed him, giving Peter a minute to process the information before he continued.

"I think he wants us to find him. That cover ID has been burned for more than a year. That has to be a reason he's using it." He continued.

"Find him. Now." Peter ordered, resuming his pacing while he thought. Jones had a point, Neal was well aware that "Nicholas Halden" was on the FBI's radar.

None of it made any sense.


End file.
